


Welcome to the Farm

by wafflesandpancakes



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Cowboy, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - charles is actually famous but they're not drivers you know, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Horses, IT IS A COWBOY AU LIVE WITH IT, Idiots in Love, M/M, model!charles tho, this is mostly charles thirsting after lando get over it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesandpancakes/pseuds/wafflesandpancakes
Summary: "Maybe Pierre is right and this will somehow turn him back to a normal person, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s okay with being who he is. A badass bitch rocking high heels and fucking any man in a six feet radius."orCharles spends a summer on his brother's farm and falls in love.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg, Pierre Gasly/Antonio Giovinazzi, Susie Wolff/Torger "Toto" Wolff (mentioned)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 101





	Welcome to the Farm

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO YES ANOTHER WORK FROM ME AAAAHHH
> 
> this took me /way/ too long but with moving etc and Anni's birthday present, I didn't have that much time for other things.
> 
> On this behalf, thanks to Anni (LandoAitken), Mone (simplyverstappen) and Johanna (PoemAboutCitylights) for giving me the motivation and inspiration the past week(s) because HELL this took a lot of time and energy, and I know all three of you are excited about this so HERE YOU GO. BE HAPPY WITH IT.
> 
> anyways, for all the others: have fun reading it, and appreciate the effort haha
> 
> the song mentioned in this fic is "Welcome to the Farm" by Luke Bryan

Charles leans his head against the cool window, his eyes taking in the world around him before he closes them, ignoring whatever is happening right now. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he should’ve been at the Fashion Week in New York by now, but apparently, there has been some kind of intervention in his team about sending him on a forced holiday. Pierre has been clear with his intentions, he’s not allowed to come back for a while, not until he “stops being such a pain in the ass and comes down from his high horse”, to quote his best friend slash manager. And he knows that he’s right, that the fame might have changed him, but he’s living his dream, wearing Gucci, Versace, Lagerfeld and more for a living. That it’s a possibility for him to earn money while quietly working on his own clothing line, finding another way of expressing himself. Maybe Pierre is right and this will somehow turn him back to a normal person, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s okay with being who he is. A badass bitch rocking high heels and fucking any man in a six feet radius.

He opens his eyes again, just to watch golden fields fly by, one after the other sometimes kept apart by meadows with cows, horses, sheep. Perfect little farm life. Somewhere in his mind, he remembers how his brother has told their parents that his boyfriend and he had looked at a farm and how they decided on buying it. Life in a small community. Nothing Charles is made for. He is destined to live in front of the cameras, always online, always checking social media. The social butterfly of the family. He has always been different from his brother. Maybe that is why they got along, still. Opposites attract, and while that might sound incest-y, it’s true, they have always made up each other’s flaws. Filled in the blanks and driven everyone into madness. But that’s long gone, they have grown up, they’re adults now, their childhood is far behind them. They have gotten control over their lives - at least somewhat. They have found their place in life.

Charles is torn from his thoughts as the driver stops the car and kills the engine, smiling at his guest through the rear mirror. He gives the man a half-hearted smile before getting out, and his heart stops, his throat tightens as he sees the familiar faces on the porch. He doesn’t care about the driver anymore, doesn’t care that he should help him get his luggage out of the trunk, instead he walks up to the porch to stand in front of the two men.

“Long time no see, huh?”

Max looks as unbothered as always, arms crossed in front of his chest, his biceps accentuated by his black, tight-fitted shirt. He has matured, has grown a bit of stubble, not something worth calling a beard, but something close to it. “Filled in his form” is something that’s fitting too, but it sounds as if it’s something their dad would say, and if Charles doesn’t want to do one thing it’s sounding like his dad. But it’s true, Max has shaken the last baby-like features off, he looks like a grown man now, and it suddenly hits him how long it’s been since they’ve last met. This isn’t the person he grew up with anymore, and for the first time, he feels like he has truly missed out on stuff.

“Missed you too, dipshit.”

And suddenly, strong arms are around him, pulling him in close. He, the person who normally shies away from any touches, lets himself sink into the embrace, because even though a lot has changed, even though they have changed, Max’ hugs still feel the same as they did when they were five and Charles had lost his favorite plushie (which they luckily had found again ten minutes later).

When they part, there’s another pair of arms hugging him, this time just slightly shorter than Max’ hug was. Dan has changed too, grown a fuller beard, gotten a shit-ton of tattoos more, let his hair grow longer. Matured, too. And when he looks at the two of them, he sees how perfect they look together, the love that radiates from them. He might not be a man of emotions - you need to stick to yourself if you really want to be someone in the world of the rich and famous - but he feels himself tear up, feeling genuinely happy for his brother.

“Welcome to the farm, Charles.”

Maybe this isn’t so bad anyway. Maybe this will truly be his long needed break.

They show him around the farm, and Charles would never have guessed how huge it actually is. There are stables, there is the main house, there are houses for the workers, both long-term and summer-time, and they even have some guest houses for tourists who want to spend their vacation at the farm. He sees the love and adoration for this place in Max’ eyes as he tells anecdotes about different places, how much he enjoys living here, the opposite life to Charles’. And when he looks at Max, really studying his face, he can see how relaxed he is, the tenseness he has seen throughout high school has disappeared. Max can be himself out here, and it’s good to see how much he has grown on the tasks, to see him truly happy. It’s all Charles has ever wished for his brother, a happy and calm life, and if it’s somewhere in the middle of nothing, it’s fine too. It’s just not for him. He needs the attention, the people out there begging for his love. He can’t do farm life.

“You can go up to your room if you want to. Get settled or something like that. I’ll call you for dinner.”

Charles nods and looks at his brother, a genuine smile on his lips, something not many people get from him.

“Thank you for having me… Even after rarely seeing each other anymore.”

“Charles,” Max smiles too, unbothered, happy, “you may be a pain in the ass but you’re still my brother. You are always welcome here.”

When he walks into his assigned bedroom, he looks at his luggage and sighs before flopping onto the bed face first, deciding on ignoring his abandoned clothes for some time. He knows he should call Pierre, or at least message him, that he should tell Charlotte that he’s fine and to not destroy their apartment while he’s away, but he doesn’t want to. All he wants is to lay on this surprisingly comfortable bed and maybe sleep, even though it will fuck with his jet lag. He should get up, take a shower, wake the fuck up, but he only proceeds with burying his face in his pillow, the last thing he notices before falling asleep being that it’s the same detergent their dads used when they were younger.

It’s Dan who wakes him up a couple of hours later, when the sun has already disappeared behind the horizon, ruffling his hair as he says something about dinner being ready in a few minutes and about a bonfire. Charles, still too deep in his sleepy phase, only nods and sits up, but before he can ask any more questions Dan has already disappeared again, leaving him all alone. A sigh leaves his lips as he gets up, walking to his luggage just to throw some pieces onto his bed before finally finding the object of his affection - one of Max’ old hoodies that he has stolen a couple of years ago, the logo of his brother’s university on the back, his name in the front. Of course, it’s torn up, it has clearly seen better times, but since changing owner, it’s only purpose has been giving Charles a feeling of home and his brother being close.

It’s not hard to find the others, the warmth of the fire attracting him like the light attracts moths, and combined with Dan’s loud laugh it’s not hard to miss them by any chance. He stops in the door frame which leads to the backyard, taking in the scene in front of him. Dan and Max are cuddling on a bench, Max having pulled his legs up on the cushions and taking in most of the space, and a blanket is draped over his legs. There’s a table next to the bench where multiple plates are sitting, all of them filled with food, most likely from the barbeque grill further away. There are two more chairs, one of them still empty, while another guy is sitting on the other, a guitar leaning against it. His arms are covered in tattoos, and his braids stick out from beneath his Panama style hat, looking way too stylish (Charles notices that he wore a similar pair of pants at the last important dinner, so they have to be expensive) to be working on a farm with those fairly huge rings on his fingers, but Charles can see that his fingers are rough from the hard work, so he guesses he must be working here anyway. Instead of taking place on the empty chair, Charles makes his way over to the bench, gently lifting Max’ legs up to slide beneath them, putting them in his lap.

“Hey, that’s my hoodie.”

“Not anymore.” He looks up at the new person, smiling a bit tense. “I believe we haven’t met yet. I’m Charles.”

The other man smiles and tips his hat - they’re really trying to check all the stereotypical country marks.

“I’m Lewis. And if you see a dog running around here, that’s Roscoe.”

Saying Roscoe isn’t what he has imagined is an understatement. When thinking about a farm dog, he has thought of a German Shepherd, maybe an Australian Shepherd or a Border Collie, maybe a Pitbull, an Australian Kelpie… Basically, every bigger dog breed on this godforsaken planet. Even a Great Dane would’ve been possible. But what comes around goes around and in the end, there’s a drooling English Bulldog trying to climb onto his lap. His shock seems to be written in his face because everyone around him laughs while Lewis is simultaneously trying to call his dog back.

“Not what you’ve expected?”

Charles follows the dog with his eyes, watching how he trots over to his owner and falls down next to him, demanding belly rubs.

“Did I expect a drool machine? On a farm? Not really, no.”

Lewis laughs and looks back and forth between Charles and Max, shaking his head.

“I can clearly see where you two are siblings, you’re both pretty sassy.”

“Shut up, Mr. Wannabe Country Star.”

Charles’ answer makes Dan burst out laughing again, and Max has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing too. It takes him a few seconds to catch up with it, and it’s mostly Lewis’ smug smile which makes him realize his mistake. He buries his face in his hands and lets out a loud, audible sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually a country star.”

“Three platinum records, baby.”

He lets out a groan and to be honest, he wants nothing more than to disappear right where he’s sitting. Straight up vanish and let anyone forget what has happened. Max pats his knee, a pitiful expression on his face.

“Lewis often helps us during the summer when he isn’t on tour.”

“I hate you, I hate all of you.”

“How can you hate me, when we haven’t been introduced to each other?”, a new voice chimes in, and Charles feels his face burn up without even looking at the stranger. “That’s not nice of you.”

The model takes a deep breath before looking up, trying to figure out where the new person is. Turns out he has sat down in the empty chair and Roscoe has trotted over to him, now demanding belly rubs from him too, which he’s apparently inclined to give him. His curls aren’t as defined as Dan’s, but they give him a soft and boyish look together with the acne spots on his face, which is only destroyed by the guns he has as arms (he knows what he’s talking about, he has hooked up with enough trained people to be able to judge that, thank you very much). Charles can’t stop staring at him, swallowing hard as the other man proceeds to pet Roscoe, his muscles playing beneath the short-cut sleeves of the checkered shirt. His arms aren’t too big or too muscular to make it look unnatural, it’s the perfect kind of fitness and he swears by God, if he’s ever able to catch a glance at how he looks shirtless, he might die.

“I- I’m sorry? Uhm…”

“Oh my god, someone has finally rendered him speechless, quick, mark it down in the calendar!”

Max grins as both Charles and the other man blush. The stranger looks at Charles and extends his hand, only to pull it back quickly as he notices the motor oil stains on it, wiping it on his pants. He blushes even more, and something inside of Charles is conflicted between wanting to ravish him and wanting to hold him close and tell him that everything’s going to be okay.

“I’m Lando,” the other finally says, his smile a bit shy on his lips.

“Charles. Max’ twin brother.”

“Thank God you don’t look alike, Dan wouldn’t be able to work properly.”

Charles gives him a confused look, but it doesn’t take long for his face to light up in understanding, shivers running down his spine.

“Nope! Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Please don’t bring up my brother’s sex life ever again, I am  _ scarred _ .”

“Stop being such a drama queen, who got fucked by an actor in the toilet stalls at the Met Gala?”

Lewis looks up from whatever the hell he had been doing with his guitar, giving Charles a crooked smile.

“Happened to you too?”

He ignores the groan coming from his brother, settling back against the cushions while studying the singer. It’s not like he’s ashamed of what he has done, he has a reputation in the scene, and he actually prides himself with the fact that more people are wanting to have sex with him than he ever thought was possible (not that he sleeps with all of them, he has a well sorted out group of people that are allowed to touch him in that way, but the exception proves the rule).

“Yeah, Met Gala 2018. A one time fling. And you?”

“2016. Wouldn’t have believed it back then but I married that idiot last summer.”

Charles tugs his legs up onto the bench, struggling a bit with keeping Max’ legs in place so his brother won’t tumble down, tilting his head slightly. He knows a good chunk of the people present at the Met Gala, but since he didn’t even know Lewis before, he doubts he would know his spouse.

“Who is that idiot then?”

“Does the name Nico Rosberg ring a bell?”

The information takes a while to sink into his brain, the wheels turning to fit everything together. His last update is that Nico wasn’t gay, that he was in a relationship with Vivian, but to be honest, he has always thought that Nico and Vivian were too… perfect.

“Wait, so you mean Nico Rosberg as in the son of Keke Rosberg, one of the most renowned film producers? Nico Rosberg as in the leading actor in ‘Everything for Love’, NBC’s hit show centered around doctors? Nico Rosberg, the pretty boy, who was just confirmed as Roger in the new live-action-adaptation of ‘101 Dalmatians’ with Toto and Susie Wolff voicing the Dalmatian couple Pongo and Perdita?”

Lewis laughs at that, and Charles deliberately ignores Max’ mumbled “Nerd” (who stays up all night to play video games? Not him (okay, sometimes him)).

“Yes, that Nico Rosberg. My husband. And actually, it’s Nico Hamilton-Rosberg.”

Lewis' grin grows even bigger, the golden wedding band glistening in the light of the bonfire. For the first time in forever, Charles feels at peace, his mind calming down, connected to his body and his surroundings without the ever-lasting need of knowing what tomorrow will bring. Because it doesn’t matter. He’s just going to enjoy the time at the ranch.

It’s far into the night when they split apart, saying their last goodbyes in the hallway, Max and Dan disappearing in the master bedroom while Lando, Charles and Lewis stand in front of the doors to their guest bedrooms. Charles worries his lower lip between his teeth as he opens the door, the dark void of the still unfamiliar room welcoming him, and he hesitates, clearly not wanting to enter the room.

“Is everything alright?”

Lando puts a hand on his shoulder and he shrugs, looking down, not daring to look at the other.

“I’m… I’m just not used to sleeping alone. In… the past years, it’s always been either Pierre or one of my one night stands…”

“I can stay for the night if you want to. You just have to be okay with me getting up early.”

He raises his gaze, his eyes locking with Lando’s. They’re beautiful, sparkling with nothing but kindness.

“You would do that?”

“Sure thing.”

With a smile, Charles walks into his room, blushing slightly as he notices the still unpacked luggage in the corner. Lando seems to either not notice or ignore it as he walks in, instead opening his shirt and letting it fall off his shoulders and into his hands. It takes him a lot of strength not to openly stare at him, so Charles decides it’s a good idea to open one of his suitcases in hope of finding something to wear to sleep in (he’s not going to sleep only dressed in underwear when Lando’s sleeping right there next to him, thank you very much), only to notice how much the clothes he’s wearing now are reeking of smoke. Lando seems to have noticed too and brushes a hand through his curls.

“I’m… going to take a shower first if you’re alright with it? I’ll come right back, I just don’t want to smell like sweat and smoke.”

The second he’s out of the door, Charles takes a deep breath. At least he hasn’t had to look at a shirtless Lando for too long and can now focus on the more important things, such as taking the possibility of a shower into account and settling on it as the smell of smoke hits his nostrils again. Nothing against bonfires, he loves them and the atmosphere they can create, but a negative aspect to them is that they make you smell as if you’ve just left a low-key dodgy bar in Berlin - he’s been there and has done that.

He grabs some clean clothes he can wear, later on, some pajama pants his dads gifted him last Christmas and an old shirt of which he doesn’t know who it belonged to before making its way into his closet. The old clothes are thrown into the corner of the bathroom so they won’t make his whole room reek of smoke, and Charles has never imagined a shower to feel so good. And he has taken showers after hours on catwalks and shifting back and forth between different outfits and different makeup looks. But to get the dirt out of his hair and the smell of smoke off his body is more rewarding than anything else right now, and when he cuddles into his bed afterwards, he feels content and warm and happy. The latter feeling grows even stronger when Lando comes back, and… God. He looks cute.

As Charles, he’s wearing a pair of pajama pants, combined with a pair of fluffy socks, but most noticeable is the grey hoodie with the orange inner fabric, most shown through the hood, which hangs low into Lando’s face. It’s slightly oversized, the sleeves a bit too long for his arms and therefore creating sweater paws - Charles feels like he’s about to die. How can a man pull off being both fucking ripped and that cute?

“I like your hoodie,” comes out of his mouth, completely unfiltered, and both he and Lando blush, the farmworker crawling onto the bed to sit down next to him.

“Thanks, it’s… It’s my ex-boyfriend’s…”

Great job, Räikkönen-Vettel, great fucking job.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Ah, no worries, it’s been over for a while.” Lando looks down on his hands, playing with the hem of the sleeves. “I just thought that he didn’t deserve anything nice, like this hoodie.”

“Then… he clearly didn’t deserve you.”

He can see how the younger one bites his lips, a small smile forming on his lips.

“That’s what Max said, too.”

Charles looks at him, and... Look, he's not the type of person to feel sorry for someone, but if he feels sorry for someone, it's Lando. Even though he only knows him for about 4 hours or so, there's something about him that makes him think that Lando is a sweet and loveable person who doesn't deserve anyone who doesn't treat him like royalty.

They cuddle together later on when they're laying in complete darkness, Charles resting his head on Lando's chest, the other's hand slowly combing through the dark, fluffy hair. He can feel how the movements become lazier, slower, and he knows Lando is about to fall asleep, but he's still awake and he doesn't want to keep him awake longer than necessary. Somehow, he seems to notice it though, and the hand stops its movements completely, making Charles lookup.

"Can't sleep?"

"Not really," smiling, he notices how Lando tries to keep a yawn in. "It's okay though, I'll handle it."

Lando shakes his head and sits up again, rubbing his eyes, using one hand to keep Charles in place as the latter tries to move up.

"Let me... Don't judge my voice, but uhm... My mom always sang to us to make us sleep, but I don't know children's songs and I feel like it would be inappropriate, and really, I can't sing but-" He takes a deep breath, steadying his voice and trying to calm a bit down. "But I can try one of Lewis' songs..?"

Charles wants to object, doesn't want to force him to do anything, but he can see the determination in his eyes, so the only thing he does is sigh while cuddling closer. It takes him a few seconds to settle, but once they're in a somewhat comfortable position, Lando opens his mouth – and Charles is stunned.

" _ Right outside of this one church town, there's a gold dirt road to a whole lot of nothing. Got a deed to the land, but it ain't my ground. This is God's country. _ "

Needless to say, Charles is asleep in a matter of seconds, an angelic smile on his face.

He fits in fairly quickly, helping here and there on the farm, but he tends to stick to the main house, doing the laundry and cooking. He's not much of a help on the farm, so he does what he can to make the others happy after a day of work, and they thank him for it (Max still tries to get him to take him on a few hacks with their horses, but Charles hasn't touched a horse in God-knows-how-long, and while he knows how to  _ ride _ , he's sure that he would break all his bones if he would try riding a horse again). And he's gotten closer to Lando, them being in some kind of friendly relationship, and he has never felt happier than now. He's free to do whatever he wants, he can be lazy or productive, and best of all, he doesn't have to listen to anyone around him. No one screams at him to do this or begs him to do that. He's his own person, and he's living for it.

“Hell no, I won’t do that.”

Charles stares at his brother, who just sighs and shakes his head, running one hand through his hair.

“Come on, shithead, only this time.”

“I won’t help Lando with the horses! Why can’t you do it next weekend instead?!”

“Charles, the pregnant mares are too close to their due date by then. And we can’t have them give birth out there, we need them at the farm.”

“Can’t Lewis help?”

Max sighs again, clearly frustrated, but - as always - not willing to back down.

“Lewis is back in LA with Nico. Before you ask, no, we don’t have any other person who could help,” he steps closer, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “I don’t know why you’re so afraid of riding, but you need to do this. Remember back then, when you had the riding lessons and I made fun of you for it?”

“Like you did with everything I was into?”

Max chuckles and gives him a soft smile.

“Don’t act as if you didn’t do that with my interests too. But that’s not what this is about. I might’ve never admitted it back then, but you look good on those horses. And riding is like riding a bike - you never forget how to do it. Maybe it’ll be a bit different than English riding, but you’ll get used to the Western gear. So… please?”

Charles looks at Max and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knows his brother deserves a weekend off with his boyfriend, knows they work hard all year long and a weekend off is not enough to fully refill their energy, but he’s fucking terrified. Not of the idea of breaking all his bones (okay, that too), but of the idea of something going wrong. That something happens and a horse dies or that the house burns down or that he fucks up Max and Dan’s future forever. In the end, it’s probably just a small ride - ride to the pasture, get the horses, lead them home - but he has the feeling that something might go wrong.

“Charles, you don’t need to be afraid. Lando’s with you all the time, and he knows what he’s doing. If you want to, ask him to go on a ride with you tomorrow. As a training for the weekend. Ride the road you need to take and come back. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Finally, he nods, his hands shaking slightly. He can do this. He’s a Vettel-Räikkönen, he doesn’t give up. And Max is right, he is a somewhat experienced rider (even though it has been some years), nothing will happen. Even if, Lando’s there. He can help him. He will help him.

They actually end up doing it. Charles asks Lando, Lando agrees, and the next morning, they get the horses ready and ride out. Charles’ horse, a grey gelding called ‘Monty’, carries him carefully through nature, one step at a time. And he actually finds him smiling when they canter down a sandy road, the wind in their hair (and mane), racing against Lando and his mare ‘Priscilla’. He feels free and even though the Western gear  _ is _ different from the English equipment (Lando had to help him multiple times this morning), it’s still comfortable and fairly easy to get used to. Everything’s fine until Lando turns right instead of left.

“Aren’t we supposed to go this way?”

“Yeah, but the rest of the way to the pasture is easy, nothing difficult, just following the way there. I want to show you something instead.”

And all of the sudden, all his calmness is gone and he wants nothing more than to turn around and ride back to the farm. On the other hand, he trusts Lando, and Lando wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him, right? So he stays close and follows Lando through the grass, the road having stopped at some point, only wilderness surrounding them. It’s somewhat idyllic, he can hear some birds scream over his head (he doesn’t know what kind but they look scary), the horses walk with their heads held low, completely relaxed. Lando and he don’t speak, and if he’s honest, this is something Charles could get used to.

They reach the top of a hill and Lando stops, gesturing Charles to not say a word, just watch. And as his gaze wanders across the wide steppe which outstretches in front of them, he sees what Lando means, not far away from them but not close enough for them to be noticed: A herd of Mustangs is grazing, walking a few steps before stopping again, continuing to eat in peace. There are maybe 6 adult horses, and while two of them look to be pregnant, he can see at least one foal run between them.

“That’s… That’s beautiful…”, he whispers, looking over at Lando.

“Yeah… It’s not something you see each day… Especially since… It’s hard for them out here.”

“What… What do you mean by that?”

The younger one sighs and watches the herd, a smile on his face as the foal starts playing with one of the older horses.

“There are too many horses. This country grows and grows and grows, and that means that there’s less and less space for the horses to live in. But that doesn’t stop the horses from populating, you know? There are holding facilities that hold even more horses, and there’s an adoption program… but not many people want a Mustang.” Lando lets out a quiet, emotionless laugh. “Which is… it’s stupid. Mustangs are great horses, they’re loyal once you earned their trust, and they’re made for living in this area.”

Charles smiles, looking at Lando.

“You really love them, don’t you?”

“It’s not hard to see, huh?”

“Not really… It’s beautiful, though.”

He can make out how Lando blushes but decides against teasing him, instead turning his focus to the horses again. There’s an odd feeling in his stomach, and for some reason, he feels incredibly jealous of the animals. Fucking horses, why is he jealous of horses? That doesn’t even make sense, they’re not human. But when he sees the expression on Lando’s face, there’s this wish in the back of his head: “ _ I want him to look at me the same way. _ ”

Their ride back to the farm is silent, a comfortable silence, and Charles is lucky that Monty is watching his steps because his rider is way too lost in his own head, too focused on the man next to him with the cowboy hat which sits surprisingly low, casting a shadow over his face, the broad shoulders barely fitting the chequered shirt, small droplets of sweat rolling down his neck. Charles is sure that he has never seen a man that beautiful ever before, and he has had to keep himself from staring at him more than once in the past weeks.

They bring the horses back to the stable, and for once Charles helps with the work that follows, cleaning out the stalls together with Lando (maybe he just wanted to see those arm muscles in action, sue him). The radio plays some kind of country song in the background, fitting perfectly to the rustling of the hay and straw, and the young model feels like he’s stuck in some kind of cliché romance movie. He can hear Lando hum along to the song, and as the farm helper lifts his head, their eyes meet, time standing still, only the music in the background moving on.

“ _ That straw in your hair, not an ounce of makeup on ya. As the sun goes down, girl, I ain’t never seen you lookin’ so good as you do right now. _ ”

They smile at each other, Lando slowly lifting his hand to remove a bit of straw from Charles’ hair, letting it fall to the ground before cupping his cheek. Charles’ breath stutters, he feels his cheeks heating up, and he bites his lower lip when the other steps closer.

“It’s true… You’re not wearing any makeup,” he whispers, gently brushing over Charles’ cheeks, which normally are covered in at least highlighter, if not foundation and blush too.

“Didn’t think it was necessary today…”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less. You’re always beautiful.”

Then, his lips touch Charles’, and the older one melts into his arms, gently moving his lips against his, one of his hands holding onto the other’s curls. Not wanting to let him go, not wanting it to stop, the desire of being held like that all the time running through his veins. But the kiss is over as quickly as it started, and they stare at each other in disbelief before Lando takes a step back and leaves the barn, leaving Charles with the rest of the work - not that he cares anymore, the only thing he cares about is the warm feeling on his lips and the pain of his hurt heart.

To say that it’s awkward the next morning is an understatement - it is extremely uncomfortable for both of them to ride through nowhere, not saying a word. Not on their way to the meadow, not on their way back. The only words they exchange are when they decide on who takes which mare back to the stable. Otherwise, they stay quiet, and Charles has never hated anything more in his life. Even when they arrive back at the stables, Lando is quick to get the horses settled in, putting his horse outside and leaving Charles to his own devices - who feels completely lost and alone for the rest of the weekend.

He somehow avoids Max’ questions, his brother noticing that something’s off, and buries himself in housework, avoiding not only Max but also Lando at all costs. But even though the farm is big, it is obvious that he can’t escape meeting Lando, especially since they all share a house, and so he meets Lando multiple times in the hallways, the two of them only staring at each other for a few seconds before walking past each other, looking strictly on the floor. Still, he can’t stop himself when he walks across the farm one afternoon to get Max’ phone from the barn (he didn’t ask  _ why _ it’s there anyway, but he has a gut feeling that it might involve Dan) and sees Lando in the round pen, lunging a black horse. He stops in his tracks and watches them, watches how the younger man seems to lead the horse by pure will, not having to do anything to get it to change its pace. It’s a balance between their powers, a special kind of trust until the horse decides it doesn’t want to listen to him anymore, cantering around Lando, throwing his hind legs into the air. As soon as Lando tries to pull it in using the lunge, the horse rears, front legs kicking out after the human in front of it. Charles’ heart stops. He wants to run towards them, to save Lando from getting injured, but he can’t, he feels like he’s glued to the ground, forced to watch helplessly. To his surprise, Lando barely moves, positioning his body slightly different and the horse stops, standing in front of him as if nothing has happened, ears forwards and  _ listening _ to him. Then, the horse lifts his head and turns it slightly, looking directly at Charles - who is he kidding, the horse is staring right into his soul. Lando turns around, eyes wide in surprise as he sees the other, and Charles swears that he has never disappeared that quickly ever in his life.

He lets himself fall onto the bed and buries his face in his pillow, not wanting to get up ever again. He’s kind of embarrassed by how much the scene has turned him on, watching Lando have so much power of a 500kg+ horse while barely doing anything - listen, he’s a simple guy and Lando’s already hot in normal situations. This was just the overkill. Ignoring the boner he’s sporting at the moment, he screams into his pillow before letting out an overly dramatic sigh. He doesn’t hear how the door is opened, so he nearly jumps off the bed when it dips next to him. When he looks up, he looks directly into Lando’s eyes, swallowing hard.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you. About what happened.”

Charles bites his lip and sits up. Of course, he wants to talk. Of course, he wants to resolve the tension. But does he actually want to get rejected? Nope.

“I… I don’t know what we should talk about. We kissed. Or rather, you kissed me and ran away afterwards.”

“I was a coward.”

“Yeah, you were.”

They look at each other, not wanting to look away, break the spell, waiting for the other to say something.

“But I wasn’t lying. You’re beautiful.”

“Coming from you…”, Charles whispers before he pulls him in, pressing their lips together. Something inside him doesn’t want to give up the hope that Lando actually likes him, actually wants to have him around, and that him running away has been more spontaneous than planned. He wants to pull away when he feels Lando kiss him back, and suddenly there’s a hand in his hair, holding him in place, and he happily surrenders to Lando, letting him take charge.

His head hits the pillow and then Lando is on top of him, his eyes dark as he looks down on him. Charles feels his own breath hitch at the side, staring at Lando first before letting his eyes wander across his body, from the strong arms next to his head down to his middle, where the old jeans are slightly tented. So he’s not the only one enjoying it, huh?

“Do you want this?”

The other’s voice is surprisingly deep in his ear, so different from the normally higher-pitched tone, and Charles nods, lifting his hips to gain some friction, whimpering helplessly. Lando laughs.

“I take this as a yes.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, now do something!”

“Stop being such a brat, Charles, and you’ll get what you want.” The farmer nips on his ear, his fingers ghosting over his sides, dipping under his shirt. “And I know you want my cock.”

Something inside Charles dies at this point. Never in his life has he imagined Lando to say such things, to  _ stay this calm when saying this _ , and hell, it shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does. He goes rigid beneath him, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as Lando’s fingers continue to dance over his skin, pushing his shirt further and further up until he has to lift Charles’ arms to take it off.

“You’re so, so,  _ so  _ pretty, Charlie. Can’t wait ‘til I destroy you.”

Lando pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his abs and his sun-kissed skin, or that’s at least what Charles thinks he’s doing based on what he can hear - he still hasn’t opened his eyes, he’s physically unable to look at him, he knows it would kill him. There’s a hand beneath his chin, gently tugging on his face.

“Open your eyes.”

Charles follows his wish, swallowing hard. Lando  _ is _ shirtless, and  _ fuck _ , he’s hot. He blinks once, twice, thrice, taking in the picture in front of him, and he pushes himself against Lando, earning a low groan. He can feel that the other is as into it as he is, and it turns him on even more, the thought that Lando wants  _ him _ , not the model Charles but the real Charles. He lets his hand ghost over the muscles, stopping at his waistband, giving the younger one a short look before opening the button and pulling down his pants and underwear. A smirk creeps onto Lando’s face as Charles stops, moaning as the bottom’s hand wraps itself around his length, giving it a few strokes.

“You know what? I’ve seen you riding horses, and you did really well, but now I want to see you ride something else.”

Charles makes a choked off sound, pressing his eyes shut as his cheeks flush red.

“This… This shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.”

“I don’t care, you better get rid of your stupid pants now so I can get you ready or else you’ll need to buy a new pair.”

The pants find their way to the floor quicker than both of them have expected, his underwear follows soon too, and suddenly, he feels exposed, bare, without any safe armor around him. Lando’s hand wanders down, gently stroking over his hips, taking in his whole body, the light, soft skin, the long legs which have wrapped themselves around Lando’s waist, pulling him closer. He makes a disappointed sound when the other leans across him but doesn’t kiss him, instead reaching over to the nightstand, opening it to find lube and condoms inside of it.

“Did you plan something?”

“Yeah, fucking me with my toy. It’s not like I expected to get fucked by anyone here.”

Lando makes a pleased sound (pleased? maybe because he likes the idea that Charles isn’t pitty-fucking him, he thinks) and takes the things out, popping open the bottle of lube, and it’s horrifying for Charles how he’s so focused on how the clear liquid runs over the other’s fingers, coating them. His eyes fall shut once more when one finger enters him, gently pressing further inside and stilling to get him used to the feeling before moving slowly, taking the time that’s needed to get him prepped. And while he knows that Lando has nice fingers, it’s something different when they’re inside him, working him open, getting him ready for the real thing. For Lando. (It still sounds odd in his head, he’s about to have sex with the guy he’s been crushing on the past weeks)

“So? Are you going to ride me or am I supposed to do all the work?”

“You’re the cowboy, so I thought you liked the riding?”

“Mate, I’ve got my fingers up your arse, no chance I’m bottoming for you tonight.” He scissors his fingers to highlight his point, making Charles moan. “But if you behave, I might let you fuck me in the future.”

A whimper comes from Charles as the other pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the model’s thigh, gently propping his legs up, and then reaching for the condom.

“Come on, pretty boy, I’ll spoil you today then. But I’ll need you to spread your cheeks a bit.”

He guides his hands down, putting them in the position he wants to have them in, pressing a kiss on his jaw before properly settling down and leaning over him. Charles subconsciously holds his breath when he feels Lando’s tip at his entrance, and his mouth falls agape as he pushes inside, slowly, steadily, careful not to hurt him. He hears Lando swear quietly above him, his eyes closed, clearly holding himself back.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Charles hears him from far away, feeling as if he’s in his own bubble, and he makes a whiny noise, moving against Lando, who seems to understand what he means, gently starting to move inside him, his hands soon clawing into his hips. It doesn’t take long for them both to be moaning messes, their lips clashing together again and again, Charles’ nails leaving red lines across Lando’s back. Their rhythm falters, and as good as it feels, Charles doesn’t want it to be over, he wants to hold on to the moment for as long as possible, but he can’t stop it when a warmth spreads in his gut, coming all over himself soon after. He can Lando groan as he fucks him through his orgasm, hitting his prostate with every single thrust before he follows him over the edge, filling up the condom.

They stay silent, only their quick breath echoing in the room, before Lando eventually rolls down from him, staring at the ceiling. Charles carefully reaches for his hand and squeezes it with a smile. He feels all warm and happy, even though he should feel quite dirty, but it doesn’t matter, especially not when Lando gets up and walks to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and to fetch a cloth to clean them both. When he falls asleep that night, it’s in Lando’s arms, where he feels as safe as never before.

They’re happy. They’re both genuinely happy and yes, they’re sex is good. No, wait, it’s perfect. Everything’s better with Lando, the work, the days off, the days, the nights. He feels so at peace, a feeling he rarely has when he’s at work, traveling across the world, and he dreads the day he has to go again, leave the farm, Max, Lando, everyone behind. But before that happens, there’s a surprise waiting for him, a surprise in the form of a human he holds very dear to his heart.

“Charles? Someone's waiting for you!”

He walks down the stairs, throwing the cloth he’s holding in his hands over to his brother, barely missing face.

“Who?”

“Go look for yourself.”

Charles shoots Max a confused look before walking to the front door. Who could be waiting for him? He hasn’t invited anybody, and there’s no one he expects to come by and visit him besides-

“Pierre!”

They stare at each other for a second, Pierre shuffles with his right foot through the sand nervously, and then Charles is laying in his arms, burying his face into the other’s shoulder. A weight, he didn’t know was there, falls from his shoulder, and the second the smell of Pierre’s aftershave hits his nostrils his eyes tear up. He hasn’t noticed before how much he has missed his best friend, his other half, his  _ better _ half, his manager, and the sweetest person he has ever known, but now he does, and it tightens his throat, making it hard to breathe. It feels like coming home, just standing there in each other’s arms.

“What are you doing here?”, comes out of his mouth, more broken than he wants to sound.

“I wanted to know how my best friend and most missed protege is doing on his break.”

Charles takes a step back, smiling brightly as he takes Pierre’s hand. A reassuring squeeze follows.

“I need to introduce you to someone.”

He pulls him into the direction of the stables, leaving Max and Dan to get Pierre’s luggage inside the main house. The second he opens the door to the barn, he can see the object of his affection, who’s working on cleaning out one of the stalls.

“Lando?”

The younger one turns around, his dark looks full of hay, and  _ god _ , he looks so cute like that, with his reddened cheeks, the big, doe-like eyes as he spots the man next to Charles.

“May I introduce you to Pierre?”

Pierre takes a step forward, looking at the farm boy up and down and crossing his arms.

“So, you’re Lando, huh? Charles told me a lot about you.”

“Uhm… Yeah, I am. I’m… I’m sorry, but Charles has never mentioned you…?”

His best friend turns to him and lifts an eyebrow. Oh, how disappointed he looks. Charles knows he’s in for some trouble.

“Oh, he hasn’t?”

“Didn’t have the opportunity until now,” he helplessly shrugs, feeling his cheeks heat up. Maybe he should have told Lando about Pierre... He quickly grabs his best friend slash manager’s hand again, pulling him out the door again, trying to avoid the awkwardness between Pierre and Lando. “Let me show you the rest of the place, okay?”

When they sit at the dinner table that evening, it’s oddly quiet. It's the same way during breakfast the next day. And dinner again. Something’s off about the whole situation, and Charles can’t figure out what can’t put a finger on the reason why everything’s awkward and quiet. It’s not until the third day when everything escalates and it goes downhill for him.

It starts with Max sending him out to the barn because he has forgotten his phone once more (how many times can a person forget his phone over there, he asks himself, the answer clear in his head: As often as he and his boyfriend can shag over there). He sees Lando getting Priscilla ready, a rope hanging off the saddle knob, and he decides to walk over. Since Pierre arrived, he hasn’t spent a lot of time with Lando, and of course, he regrets it, but it’s not like your best friend from New York is visiting all the time, and he really has missed Pierre. He pets the mare’s head, a smile on his lips until he turns to the younger one, who deliberately ignores him.

“Hey.”

“Mh.”

It’s odd, normally Lando’s happy to see him, all smiley and bubbly, but not today, and it worries him more than he thought it would.

“Planning to go on a ride?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

Lando sounds  _ pissed _ and so, so cold. This isn’t the Lando he has gotten to know the past time, this isn’t the Lando that has made his way into his heart. This is different, and it feels wrong.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He sees Lando yank Priscilla’s reins off from where he put them around, giving him an angry look before he mounts his horse.

“Well, I don’t know, maybe you could’ve told me about your boyfriend before we fucked?!”

Charles stares at him in disbelief, but when he asks the other what he’s done wrong, the farm boy just huffs and turns his horse around, riding down the way and leaving an utterly confused Charles behind.

What worries him the most is that Lando doesn’t turn up in the evening. At that point, even Max and Daniel have noticed that he’s missing, and while the dinner is quiet again, Max breaks the silence this time around, looking at the other men at the table.

“Okay, where the fuck is Lando?”

Dan and Pierre shrug while Charles only makes himself small, not looking up from his plate. This obviously draws Max’ attention, and he looks at his brother, lifting an eyebrow while putting down his fork.

“What do you know, Charles?”

“I-” He stops, looking at the others before biting his lower lip. He fucked up, he knows that, he should have told Max about it as soon as Lando had left the farm that something’s up. But he didn’t, and now he feels terrible for it.

“He left this morning, I… I met him when I went to pick up your phone…”, He takes a deep breath, slowly looking up. “He was pissed at me because he thinks Pierre and I are dating…”

They stare at him without saying a word, probably because they don’t know what they should say. Pierre is the first one to basically move again, turning to face his best friend completely.

“You didn’t tell him that I’m your best friend? And not your lover?”

“Charles, you’re so fucking stupid.”

Dan is the only one who stays quiet, something like disgust sparkling in his eyes, before slowly shaking his head. He uses one hand to comb through his curls while still shaking his head, and Charles can feel the anger radiating from him.

“You fucked up, boy. You fucked up real good. The only fucking rule around here is not to hurt Lando. He’s a good kid who deserves happiness and not the shit you’re putting him through.”

Charles can see how Max puts a hand on Dan’s thigh, probably squeezing it to get him distracted, to make him calm down a bit, and he’s happy that he isn’t alone with Dan but has Max (and Pierre) with him here.

“I would advise you to go out and find him. If something happens to him-”

“Babe,” Max quietly says, sighing, “you can’t send him out there alone. It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care, it’s his fault that Lando is out there, alone, in the dark, and we don’t know where he is. It’s his responsibility to get him back.”

Max looks as if he wants to object but Charles is quicker as he gets up, nearly sprinting to the door and grabbing his jacket. He looks back one more time, directly into Dan’s eyes.

“I promise I’ll bring him back.”

“I hope so, Charles.”

He somehow knows where to find Lando. Something inside him tells him how to ride the second he’s sitting on Monty, leading him the same way he rode with Lando the first time. It feels like forever, riding through the darkness, but he doesn’t want to trot or even canter through the rocky surroundings, too scared that he might not see a stone or a hole, causing Monty to get hurt. Then  _ he _ would be stuck without anyone knowing where he is. Therefore, he moves slowly and steadily until he can make out another figure in the distance, sitting by a small fire. As soon as he’s close enough, he jumps off, leading his horse to a tree to tie him to it before running over to Lando, kneeling down next to where he’s sitting.

“Lando! We- We were so worried about you. Why didn’t you come back?”

Lando barely lifts his head, looking at Charles for a split second before looking back to the fire, shaking his head.

“Go back to the farm.”

“Not without you.”

“Funny how you care about me now after spending the past days with your  _ boyfriend _ .”

He spits out the last word and Charles flinches, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’ve got more lies to tell me? Because I ain’t believing the shit you’re talking.”

Charles tries to grab the other’s hand, but he pulls it away, turning away from him. Even though he tries to look cold and angry, Charles can see how hurt he looks, and it’s breaking his heart knowing that it’s his fault. He likes him way too much than wanting to hurt him.

“I’m not talking shit. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s engaged.”

“Oh, sorry then, I should’ve called him your fiancé. Isn’t he mad that you’re not wearing your ring?”

“You’re such a fucking muppet, Lando.”

Charles pulls out his phone, opening his camera roll. He has to prove Lando that he’s not lying, that he’s not a cheating bastard, that he’s serious about  _ Lando _ and Lando only.

“Look.”

It’s a picture from New Year's Eve a year ago, celebrated in a deserted cabin in Norway, one of the many attempts Pierre made to get him to slow down and to get him away from high society life. He had been the silent viewer that evening when Pierre had led his boyfriend out to the porch where the Northern Lights had been dancing on the sky, when he had gone down on one knee to ask the one question both Charles and Pierre’s boyfriend had waited for an eternity. Of course, Charles had taken a picture at that moment.

“That’s Pierre. And that’s his boyfriend slash fiancé, Antonio. He’s the most gentle person I have ever met, and they’ve been dating since the start of Pierre’s career as a manager. Tonio was one of his clients, you know?”

Lando studies the picture, studies their faces and every single detail, and Charles can see the cogs in his head turning, trying to understand what he just said.

“So… You’re not dating.”

“Mate, by all the love I have for Pierre, no thanks,” he chuckles, putting his phone away again. “He’s the best friend I could ever wish for, but dating him? We would kill each other by the end of the first day.”

Charles gently brings Lando to turn to him again, and he takes his hands in his, not really daring to look into his eyes at first. A shuddery breath leaves his throat before he finally looks up, their eyes meeting. And it’s at that moment he notices how much he has fallen for Lando. How much he adores him. How much he longs for spending his life with him, taking him on trips around the world and spoil him rotten.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you about Pierre. About my life in New York. About everything. Fuck, I…” He can feel his hands shaking, and he knows Lando can feel it too. “I don’t want to lose you, Lando. Especially not over such a stupid thing…”

The next thing he knows is that Lando’s lips are on his, gently kissing him. Warmth spreads through his body, and it feels as if a million butterflies are moving in his stomach. The other frees one of his hands and cups his cheek, bringing him in closer. They look at each other when they part before giggling like schoolboys, resting their foreheads together with a smile.

“You are forgiven, Charly.”

And the smile they share is worth more than any of his designer clothes, Charles thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> \- this is a work of fiction and does not reflect reality. kudos and comments are appreciated. It's @waffelvandoorne on tumblr -


End file.
